Page 12

Chapter12

TOR’VEK GUIDED Anya toward the auxiliary console, keeping her close enough to reach if the rage clawed free again, but not so close he would forget himself entirely. His hands lingered against her back a moment longer than necessary, the craving to pull her closer, to lose himself in her touch, almost overwhelming his iron will. The beast inside him roared to feel her skin against his, to drag her into the cradle of his body and never release her. But he tore himself away with brutal, scraping restraint, every muscle screaming in protest.

The bond between them throbbed at the separation, alow, restless vibration under his skin. He ignored it. Barely. Her scent clung to the air, teasing him, stirring the craving deeper. He caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye—her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her teeth worrying her lower lip, her body shifting subtly as if aching to move closer to him but too uncertain toact.

“Tor’Vek,” she whispered, the sound so soft he almost missed it over the ship’s creaking frame.

His muscles locked. The bond twisted hard, demanding he turn, touch,take.

“Iam here,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

She took a half step closer, her hesitation bleeding into the bond, bittersweet and electric. He could feel the hunger radiating from her—uncertain but no less real. Amirror to hisown.

He gritted his teeth, fighting the instinct to seize her and never letgo.

“Stay close,” he growled, the words a harsh command.

Anya nodded, wide-eyed, her pulse fluttering against the delicate skin of her throat. Asingle glance from her cut deeper than any blade. Seeing her trembling but standing, terrified but still reaching for him, only deepened the savage craving inside him—to protect her, to mark her, to bind her so completely to him that nothing in the universe could rip her away. And when she edged closer, stroking his arm, the bond flared in vicious, aching relief—asilent scream betweenthem.

He moved through the ship with brutal precision, surveying the damage. Panels hung half-torn from the walls. Wiring snaked across the floor in dangerous, sparking coils. Emergency lighting flickered overhead, casting the cramped interior in a sickly, unevenglow.

Tor’Vek clamped his jaw shut against the snarl threatening to breakfree.

Structural integrity—compromised but stable. Life support—limping but functional.

Propulsion—

He ripped open the engineering access panel and cursed in three languages.

The main coupling for the compression core was cracked clean through, the jagged metal edges blackened from the overload. Worse, the stabilizer array—the component necessary to regulate thrust during flight—was melted beyond repair.

He could jerry-rig minor systems. Bypass auxiliary circuits. Patch hull breaches with scrap. But without a functional stabilizer, the ship would tear itself apart the moment it attempted ajump.

Tor’Vek closed his eyes, drawing in a rough, unsteady breath, fighting the tidal surge of fury that threatened to drown him. His body tensed against the flood, every instinct screaming for the feel of Anya’s skin against his, for the calming weight of her touch. Her silent presence filled the cramped space, her scent, her heartbeat—and somehow it made the hunger sharper, not softer, until every muscle in his body ached with the desperate need to tear down the walls betweenthem.

He needed a replacementpart.

And he would not find ithere.

A soft sound—the whisper of movement—drew him back. Anya shifted near the console, hugging her arms around herself. Vulnerable. Waiting. Wanting.

The bond bucked and twisted inside him, screaming for contact, for her touch, for the reassuring heat of her body against his. It lashed through his nerves like a whip, brutal and relentless, until every rational thought frayed beneath the primal need clawing at his insides.

Tor’Vek crossed the distance between them in two strides, seizing her by the hips and dragging her flush against his body. The moment their skin touched, the roaring inferno inside him eased—not extinguished, but caged.

He buried his face against her throat, breathing her in like a dying man starved forair.

Anya stiffened for a heartbeat, then melted into him, her hands curling in the fabric of his shirt.

The bond pulled low and steady, easing the worst of the rage. Not erasing it. Never erasingit.

He neededmore.

His hands slid lower, fingers digging into the curve of her hips, supporting himself then thrusting upward beneath her shirt to the bare flesh beneath. Delicious. Utterly delicious.

“Ineed you close,” he rasped against her skin, the words torn from him, raw and unwilling. “The ship—” Fury lashed at his restraint. “The compression stabilizer is destroyed. Without it, this vessel will tear itself apart the moment we attempt flight. There is no replacementhere.”

She nodded, silent, trembling against him. But then her small hands slid up to cup his face, her touch featherlight yet unshakable. “We will find a way,” she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling with conviction. “Itrustyou.”

The bond pulsed in answer, the relentless storm inside him easing just enough for him to breathe, to believe. Her faith wrapped around him tighter than any physical touch, forging him when every rational thought had slippedaway.

He forced himself to release her after a moment, though it felt like tearing flesh from bone. He needed to work—needed to think—or they would diehere.

Grinding down the primal craving still gnawing at his insides, Tor’Vek turned back to the gutted propulsion systems.

He scavenged what he could, working with savage efficiency. Temporary power conduits. Emergency patch kits. Field welders. His hands moved on autopilot, each action a brutal assertion of control over a situation spiraling beyond his reach.

He spoke aloud, cataloging damage for Anya’s benefit as much as hisown.

“Hull breaches patched. Secondary life support functioning at sixty-three percent. Communications array offline. Propulsion offline. Primary flight controls—unresponsive.”

He tore another fried component free and tossed it aside with a snarl.

“We require a compression stabilizer to achieve controlled flight.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

Anya met his gaze head-on, her spine straightening, her chin lifting with quiet defiance. Fear flickered in her eyes, yes, but it did not own her. She was afraid—and she was still standing. Still fighting. For herself. Forhim.

“Can we find one?” she asked with amazingcalm.

Tor’Vek shook his head once, grim. “Nothere.”

Determination flickered in her expression, hardening into fierce resolve. She masked whatever fear might have glimmered there, lifting her chin, her spine straight and unyielding. Even through the bond—thick with tension—he could feel the steady hammer of her will: strong, unbroken, standing with him no matter thecost.

Tor’Vek crossed the room again and crushed her to him, needing the connection, needing her. Her warmth soaked into him instantly, her scent flooding his senses, raw and heady and achingly familiar. It was like breathing her into his bloodstream—an instant, primal balm against the chaos raging insidehim.

Her small hands fisted in his shirt, her body trembling against his. The bond pulsed harder now, as if sensing the rising storm in him and trying—futilely—to secure themboth.

He growled low in his throat, asavage sound of need and fury, and pressed her back against the nearestwall.

She gasped, her body arching into his instinctively, and the desperate craving exploded loose.

His mouth found hers, wild and demanding, and she opened for him without hesitation. His hands roamed her body with ruthless reverence, needing the feel of her, the taste of her, more than he needed oxygen.

When he finally tore his mouth from hers, they were both gasping for air, their bond a wild, thrumming storm betweenthem.

Tor’Vek rested his forehead against hers, struggling to find words.

“We are not safe here,” he said, voice ragged. “We must stabilize theship.”

Anya nodded, her hands clinging tohim.

He kissed her again—hard, brief, desperate—then forced himself to stepback.

It was like cutting out his own heart.

He stalked to the engineering console, keying through the surviving systems, trying to formulate a plan. Fury and helplessness surged through him, tightening his chest until every breath felt like dragging molten metal through his lungs. His fingers punched commands into the cracked display with savage precision, each keystroke an act of bitter defiance against a universe determined to strip everything fromhim.

He could bypass certain flight protocols, force a manual launch sequence, but without stabilization, the ship would disintegrate under thrust. They needed an alternative.

He neededtime.

Time they did nothave.

The bond pulsed violently, warning of another storm building insidehim.

He looked over at Anya, his vision sharpening on the tense, fiercely coiled strength in her body, the way she watched him—not with fear, but with a blazing, unshakable trust. It struck him like a blade to the heart, abond forged stronger by her faith. It terrified him, this fragile, staggering gift she offered so freely, even as it strengthened the part of him that refused to break.

And heknew:

He would burn the universe to keep hersafe.

He just needed one more miracle.

TOR’VEK brACED both hands on the edge of the engineering console, forcing his breath to even out. His muscles tight, his skin burning with the need clawing at him from within. He had work to do—amission to survive.

The bond linking them did notcare.

It snarled through him, dragging his attention back to Anya like a lodestone to the sun. Her scent wrapped around him, sweet and wild, making his blood thunder. Her presence battered at his self-control with every heartbeat.

He gritted his teeth, pushing through another system diagnostic, punching keys harder than necessary. The screen flashedred.

“Structural integrity at thirty-eight percent.”

Another warning siren screamed through the cabin.

Tor’Vek slammed a fist into the console’s frame, feeling the satisfying crack of metal under hishand.

Movement flickered at the edge of his vision.

Anya.

She shifted, her body arching unconsciously toward him, her small hands skimming the nearby bulkhead as if seeking something solid—seeking him .

The bond lashed.Hard.

Tor’Vek crossed the distance in a single brutal step, grabbing her by the hips and hauling her against him. Her gasp was swallowed as he crashed his mouth to hers, savage, unyielding. His hands gripped her thighs, lifting her without thought, pinning her high against the nearestwall.

She clung to his shoulders, her legs locking around his waist instinctively. The heat of her, the scent of her, the sheer undeniable life of her drownedhim.

His mouth tore down her throat, branding a savage path along the delicate line of her pulse.

“Tor’Vek…” she gasped, her voice trembling but not with fear—withneed.

“Icannot…think…without you,” he growled against her skin, the words broken, desperate.

He rocked against her, the hard, desperate line of his cock grinding against the thin barrier of their clothes. She shuddered, her fingers fisting in his hair, her mouth seeking his again with frantic hunger.

He kissed her like he was dying—because in that moment, without her, he mighthave.

When he finally tore himself away, it was with a brutal, ragged snarl. He set her down—too roughly, too fast—but he caught her shoulders to steady her, drawing her scent deep into his lungs, like a man desperate for oxygen.

“Stay,” he ordered roughly. “Where I can reachyou.”

She met his gaze, her breathing ragged but her spine straight, defiant. Her fingers stroked his jaw as if locking him in place, her lips swollen from his kiss but her voice steady when she rasped, “Iam not leavingyou.”

Tor’Vek spun back to the console, the taste of her still on his lips, his pulse a war drum in his ears—he had to think, had to move, had to fight past the dizzying need clawing at hismind.

Another status report blinked.

“Atmospheric control degraded.”

He cursed under his breath, scanning for a solution.

Another pulse from thebond.

He bit back a crude word, knuckles white against the console.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift again, adjusting the torn edges of her shirt, the bare glimpse of her smooth skin flashing like a beacon to every fraying nerve insidehim.

He lost the fight again.

In two strides, he pinned her over the console itself, pressing her down across the cold, cracked surface. His hand flattened against the small of her back, keeping her in place as he bent low, drawing the heated scent of her into his lungs.

“Ineed…” His voice broke.

Anya twisted her head to look back at him, her pupils blown wide, her breathing ragged.

“Then take,” she whispered.

It shattered what little restraint he hadleft.

He dragged his hands up her sides, feeling every desperate tremble under his palms. His mouth found the exposed line of her spine, branding her with kisses and bites that spoke of reverence and raw, desperateneed.

He rocked against her, the desperate pulse of his cock aching for her. Arough growl ripped from his throat as he yanked down her leggings, his hands shaking with urgency. He shoved them over her hips, baring her to his touch, and the vibrating mounds along his cock flexed in helpless anticipation, each pulse scraping against his restraint. The sensation tormented him as much as it tormented her, abrutal echo of the bond clawing through their blood.

She cried out, her body arching back into him without hesitation.

He bit down on the soft flesh at her shoulder—not to hurt, but to mark her, branding her ashis.

The bond flared hard, awild surge of heat and light behind hiseyes.

She whimpered, her hips pushing back into him, her voice breaking on a desperate, pleading cry. “Please, Tor’Vek. Ineedyou.”

The last of his control snapped and he tore open his trousers.

He gripped her hips in his rough hands, positioning her, his cock throbbing and ready. In a single, hard thrust, he buried himself inside her, locking them together with a groan so raw it shredded his throat.

He plunge into her, repeatedly. Desperately. And a violent surge of heat and light exploded through the bond, crashing over him as her body clutched him tight, welcoming him, completing him in a way nothing else ever could.

He took her, faster and harder, the pleasure surging with need and erupting into an intense, endless craving that drove him on and on. He wanted it to last forever, prayed for it to last forever. Not that it did. His climax ripped through him, over him and into him, his knot swelling larger than he could ever recall.

Anya gasped, her forehead pressing against the console, her body trembling as he held her there, deep and locked within her. They stayed that way for a long moment—gasping, shuddering, too wrecked tomove.

When she finally sagged in his hold, Tor’Vek gathered her into his arms, cradling her gently. He carried her to the tiny sanitation chamber, moving with gentle care, as if she might break if he jostled her too harshly.

He set her down, stripped away the remnants of their clothing, and cleaned her with steady, careful hands, murmuring low words she barely understood. Words in his native tongue—promises of protection, whispered declarations of ‘mine,’ and ragged prayers to whatever gods still listened that he might be worthy of her. His touch was tender, calming the frayed edges of her body andmind.

When he finished, he pulled her close again, wrapping her in an oversized ship blanket, shielding her from the cold air and the harsher reality waiting outside.

“Stay close,” he murmured against her hair, voice rough with emotion. “Ineed you close.”

She curled against him, her breathing steady, her touch strong and sure. Her hand skimmed over his chest, not seeking reassurance but offering it—asilent vow that she would be his mainstay as much as he was hers. Strength, fierce and unshakable, radiated from her slender frame.

Only then—with her pressed firmly against his side, the bond pulsing low and steady, the echo of danger still thick in the cold air—did Tor’Vek allow himself to think about what had to be donenext.

He could not lose himself. Not yet. They were still vulnerable. Still trapped.

Reluctantly, Tor’Vek forced himself to ease away from her, every fiber screaming in protest. Anya pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the strong hammer of his heart beneath her palm. She smiled faintly—asmile full of courage, tenderness, and the kind of strength he could lean into without shame. Their bond shimmered, fierce and imperfect, but unbreakable.

She tilted her chin up, her voice steady and low. “We fix the ship. Together.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face and forced himself to return to the emergency systems, even as every fiber of him bellowed to rip her away from the workstation and take her again and again.

Another siren blared.

Another flashing red warning.

“Hull breach imminent.”

He cursed savagely, tearing open another access panel, working like a man possessed.

His hands moved fast, reckless, sealing emergency bulkheads, diverting power—but it was like bailing water from a sinking ship with bare hands.

Anya stumbled to him without hesitation, reaching forhim.

The moment her hand slid across his back, he lost the battle again.

He spun, grabbing her, dragging her to the floor with him, pinning her under his weight. Anya didn’t flinch or shy away. Instead, she pushed up against him, her nails scratching urgently down his back, pulling him closer with fierce, steady strength. She met his need with her own, drinking in his scent and warmth with every frantic breath. Not moving. Not taking.

Just breathing.

Her hands framed his face, her palms steady and warm, supporting him in a way nothing else could. She pulled him closer, their breath mingling, her strength a lifeline against the chaos raging insidehim.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

The bond throbbed. Wild. Beautiful. Broken.

Tor’Vek dropped his forehead against hers, his body trembling with the brutal force of hisneed.

He would destroy himself forher.

Tor’Vek gathered her close once more, losing himself in her steady strength. Together, with her pressed against him, they moved back to the console. She remained at his side, her hand stroking his every few heartbeats, her quiet presence an unspoken vow of endurance.

He worked with brutal focus, bypassing damaged systems, locking down critical functions—and every time the bond snarled through him, every time rage threatened to surge, she was there, reassuring him with a touch, aglance, awhisper of faith.

Piece by piece, he stabilized the battered ship as much as he could. But the missing stabilizer loomed over them, asilent reminder that survival—and the fragile bond stitching them together—hung in the balance, their future teetering on the edge of collapse.

Tor’Vek finished sealing the final bulkhead, the emergency system flickering weakly to life. For a moment, there was only the rasp of their breathing and the low, fractured hum of recovering machinery.

Then the lights shifted.

A cold, silver shimmer sparked in the center of the restored bridge.

An image flickered into being—distorted, crackling—but unmistakable.

Selyr.

The hologram resolved into the tall, gaunt figure of the Vettian scientist. His pale skin gleamed under the harsh emergency lighting, and his yellow eyes burned with malevolent satisfaction.

“Well, well,” Selyr drawled, his voice slithering through the damaged comms. “Still alive. Remarkable.”